


Spot Conlon

by Firecracker_Newsie (Enjolras_The_Survivor)



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: 92sies Jack, Rated For Violence, Tags May Change, The Refuge, no other warnings apply, young!Jack, young!Spot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26522902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enjolras_The_Survivor/pseuds/Firecracker_Newsie
Summary: Sean is Spot's birth name: he's been a newsie for about 3 months at this point.
Relationships: Spot Conlon & Jack Kelly
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sean is Spot's birth name: he's been a newsie for about 3 months at this point.

Shit. Meatball told him to stay out of this place. The Refuge, it was called. Meatball had never gone much further than that, just told them all to run if they saw a bull. Well, Sean had tried to run, but the bull's adult legs were much faster than his 10 year old ones.

***  
"Boy! Come here!" Sean hobbled over to the goon, trying not to show how much pain he was in. He was lead along winding passages that no child could expect to memorise, until they entered a simply furnished office with a book open on the desk. "Time to sign in boy. Then the fun starts! I'm the Warden here, Warden Snyder. Do not forget my name." Something in the warden's tone told the newest inmate 'fun' meant something different to what he was used to. Sean made an S where Snyder pointed, not wanting to put his full name. "Room 16, with the other 7 year olds." This caused the short child to make his first mistake.  
"I'm 10!" Upon hearing this, Snyder rubbed his hands gleefully.  
"Put him in 19 then, use whatever you need to make him behave. He'll be a changed child before he leaves."

Sean was roughly dragged through the maze of corridors and thrown against a metal bunk. Pain shot up through his side and Sean bit back a whimper. A handcuff slipped around his wrist, tying him to the bed. "We can do whatever to you. Snyder thinks youse a problem kid, this your first time an' all." Here he made his second mistake - he looked up at the goons, fear showing in his eyes. "Aww, he's scared! Shall we give him a choice: the whip, or the cane?" Sean decided that now would be a very good time to hold his tongue. The goons debated the merits of both punishments for a few minutes before settling on the cane. They took his shirt off and rolled him onto his front. Swish, ow! the first blow came too fast for the young boy to register more than the burning sensation across his back and shoulders. Swish, two, ow! Three, four, ow! Hot blood was trickling down Sean's back. 11 more blows followed, Sean failing to hold back tears and yelps.

***  
"You're awake? Congratulations, you survived." Someone, maybe a little older than him, was talking. Sean blinked the 'sleep' from his eyes, revealing the person to be holding a cowboy hat.  
"What happ'ned an' why's my shirt on?"  
"Are you always this stupid? You was being caned, then you passed out. One of the goons put your shirt on you."  
"Are you always this annoying?" Sean mimicked. Cowboy-hat grinned and stuck his hand out.  
"Feisty! Name's Jack, Jack Kelly. I's famous in these parts, an' I's only 12!"  
"I's 10. Don't got a name, least not in here. I's boy, or you." Sean tried to stick his hand out but found it still attached to the bed. Jack lowered his hand and leaned against the end of the bed. "This place sucks. I've been here 3 times." Sean looked up in awe - how could anyone survive this place three times? His shoulders and back were still stinging from the earlier beating, and his shirt was sticking to his skin there too. "-gotta try to eat if you can, even if you don't like what youse gettin'." Jack was still talking, oops. "You hear any of what I said?"  
"Something about eat when you can?"

"Yup, and don't sleep if youse bleeding from your head. Take your shirt off if you can, give the wounds time to air." Sean hisses while doing so, the stiffness from his freshly scabbed cuts not helping. Jack helps Sean peel his shirt away, trying to avoid causing more pain. Once off, Sean concedes that it does feel better like that. Maybe this Cowboy could be his guide?


	2. Chapter 2

More beatings followed the first, and Sean started sleeping on his stomach so he could actually grab the tiny amount of sleep available to him without aggravating the wounds, all at different stages of healing. His friendship with Jack strengthened, especially when he bound Sean's wrist after Snyder smacked it on his desk. It had swelled alarmingly but one of the older boys sent to bring the porridge (that was being generous, it was little more than a handful of oats in water, not the creamy stuff his mother used to make) had felt it and said it wasn't broke, just sprained. After that incident, Sean decided to

"Jack? I want to tell you my name."

"You do gots one! What is it?"

"Sean. Sean Conlon. Don't tell nobody though."

"I won't, don't ya worry."

***

"What did he do to you, Sean? Them's burns, and that ain't usual."

"Apparently my name is Ashtray now." Sean's joke felt forced, and Jack picked up on that.

"It's still Sean, youse gotta keep your self and this place apart. They looks like they hurt, I got some salve off one of the older kids, same one that checked your wrist the other week. How is that, by the way?" Jack distracts his friend while he applies the ointment to Sean's torso. "It's doing better, Cowboy, still a bit purple-ish but more greeny-yellow now. How long am I in for? I know youse seen the files."

"Six months is what is says. For me, two years." Sean can tell that Jack's not telling the whole truth, but doesn't press it.

"Thanks, Cowboy. Snyder put out his cigars on me. I don't want to talk about it."


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Sean leaves the Refuge, his shoulders are speckled with cigarette scars and his back striped with the beatings he'd received, especially the one after he talked back. He never wanted to repeat that experience in the basement. As he enters the Brooklyn Lodge, he flinches from the wall of sound he's met with. Eventually, "SHUT UP EVERYONE!" Meatball - the King - yells, and it's finally quiet again. Lowering his voice to an almost-whisper, "Take my room tonight, that place is horrid."

***Later, in Meatball's Room***

"Can I check you over?" Sean pulls his shirt tighter round him. "First time? I know it hurts, I got me own scars from that place."

"Yeah, first time, and last too, if I got anything to say about it."

"You'll make a good Prince when I age out. Got a couple years but never too early to think about it." Sean starts unbuttoning his shirt, shaken by the news and his experience. "What did Snyder do to you? None of my kids ever came back with these marks." Meatball gently touches one of the many scars scattered across Sean's shoulders. "He use you as his personal ashtray or something?" Sean lets out a dry, barking laugh. "Oh no, he actually did, didn't he? Sorry, kiddo, I ain't mean to upset you"

"I made a spot like them on the wall there, to remind Spida of what 'e did." Sean tries to change the subject.

"Youse met Cowboy then, he's in and out, and never serves his time. Not that I would either. Youse strong, staying there for 6 months without tryna escape. Youse gonna take a couple days in here, then selling with me or one of the other older ones. I'll bring you some food, now try to get some sleep." Meatball ruffles Sean's hair.


	4. Telling the boys

"Hey boys! Listen up!"

"Where's Sean?" Hotshot - one of a few people Sean liked - asked.

"Hopefully sleeping in my room. He just got back from his first Refuge trip."

"How bad is he?" Joey, caring as always.

"Physically, he's had a fair few beatings, they seem like theys healing well. His shoulders 'ave been burned with cigarettes. Can you take a look at 'im tomorrow, see if we can just let him be?" Joey nods. "Thank you" The newsies sit in silence for a while, processing the news. Of course, they'd known that Sean had been in the Refuge - he was an orphan, he had no place to go but the Lodge. That didn't mean they'd been prepared for how noise sensitive he'd become, or how he'd stood stock-still as the newschildren cheered that he was still upright and able to get back to the lodge house on his own. A scream pierces the stillness and Meatball runs to his room, where as he'd expected, Sean was in the grip of a nightmare. "Sean, you're safe in Brooklyn. Safe. I'm Meatball, the person that found you." The blankets on the bed moved, Sean's eyes snapped open and he sat up, wincing. "You had a nightmare, kiddo."

"Call me Spot, I made one at the Refuge, and one under your bed."

"Okay, Spot. If you wanna talk, I's here, and I ain't going anywhere now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot has regressed somewhat for obvious reasons.  
> He's been part of the newsies for 9 months, 6 of which were in the Refuge.


	5. Chapter 5

"I don't want to talk about it. Stay?" That breaks my heart, Spot's always been the least dependent, which used to mean his shirts were buttoned wrong. "Sure." Spot shudders, and slowly the tension starts to release. "Can I get Joey to check you over? I'm okay at it, but she's much better." Joey's Da was a doc, before he passed on, and she's learned a few bits from him 'fore she became a newsie.

"No. Nobody but you. Promise?" I want Joey to take a look at him, but I also don't want to break his trust in me. He don't have any family to trust, nor real friends. "I promise, unless you become ill." Before now, he'd barter that. Go 'best I'm getting?' or words to that effect. He's had plenty of soakings, but Snyder breaks you. Soakings, give as good as you get, and try to keep the bruising down. There ain't anything you can do about Snyder, if you can't avoid him. He just nods, accepting my promise. I think his feistiness probably got him in trouble, since his nightmares have been less 'ow, stop' and more 'too small, no no no NO NO!' He's been in the basement. The Basement. It's small and cramped, and there are rats and mice and handcuffs in the walls, and sometimes anklecuffs too. It's not pleasant to walk past, and nobody's allowed in unless they're being punished. I was there, once. I ran my mouth at Snyder, so he gave me several scars from that. You can see the faint lines on my wrists from the rubbing of the cuffs. "Shh, Spot. You're safe, bud, in Brooklyn. Yeah?" I won't sleep tonight, I'll stay awake to keep Spot out of nightmares as long as possible, or at least to get him out of them. "M'nin'. Time sell?"

"Not yet. Go back to sleep. I'm right here, and I won't leave until you tell me to."

"Okay." Spot clings to me, pushing me down onto the bed, as if he can't stand the mattress. "What's up?" He turns red. I realise what the dampness is. "It's okay, we'll get you cleaned up, and we'll get the bed cleaned up too." Poor kid. I know some kids in Manhattan that have done this after they've been to the Refuge, but never one of mine


End file.
